


They've Gathered Up the Warrant

by thought



Category: Orphan Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, D/s undertones, F/F, F/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thought/pseuds/thought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth is floating away, and weighed down, and falling apart, but this time she's part of a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They've Gathered Up the Warrant

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, new fandom. I bring you this as an offering, because domestic poly is my jam and I was frankly rather shocked that no one had written this yet. ...if you have written this and I just failed to find it, I am very sorry, and I tip my hat to you. And apparently I had nothing better to do with my Saturday night than churn this out. I am so sorry.

Beth's high as fuck and contemplating her purpose in life from the disturbingly well-vacuumed floor of Alison's craft room when Donnie Hendrix finds out about the C word.

On skype, Katja says "I think they will be coming for me next. I have been looking at flights."

And Alison says, "I don't think they'll let you take blood on a plane."

And Donnie says, "Oh my God," from around the edge of the door. Alison shrieks. Her crochet hook lands on Beth's stomach and Beth thinks probably she could stab out his eyes with it, if it comes to that. Beth will do anything to defend them. The awareness sits heavy and hard inside her rib cage and sometimes it drags her down to the floor under the weight of potential consequence.

Kat hangs up. Kat is probably going to have PTSD by the time this is all over with. This is a lie. They are all probably going to be dead when this is over. Beth breathes and watches the crochet hook move up and down with the action. Everything feels very exhausting, but the rush of air coming easy in and out of her lungs is a metronome, a backdrop heartbeat like her footfalls on pavement or Alison's knitting needles or the click of pills falling out of a bottle.

Alison is already on her feet, trying to shove Donnie back out the door and block his view into the room at the same time. Beth, very deliberately careful, rolls herself under a table. "You're supposed to be in the city, why on Earth are you here? If you've forgotten your phone again, Mister, I'm gluing it to a string on your jacket, don't think I won't, I've still got the stuff from the kids' mittens."

"Alie, do you-- Those women, they look--"

"Yep, funny story, you won't believe it, you know how sometimes people, um, discover that they have long-lost siblings?"

"You're an only child."

"Nope! Believe me, I was just as shocked as you, but it turns out I've got triplets! I mean, I am a triplet."

"And a terrible liar," Beth says, apparently not as softly as she planned, because Alison clears her throat loudly.

"I'm sorry, this conversation is reserved for those of us who didn't have half the medicine cabinet for breakfast." The dissonant way Alison emotes cheer no matter what her actual feelings had left Beth wrong-footed and suspicious for months after they met, but now it's just irritating. The way Alison manages to remain stable atop her high horse of morality despite the entire bottle of red wine she's consumed in the two hours that Beth's been using her floor for existential crisis time is also irritating.

When Alison, Alison who has been more devoted to secrecy than any of them, who refuses to say the C word, who has on many occasions found fit to expound on her husband's many and varied negative qualities regardless of her audience's feelings on the matter, says "Alright, Donnie, sit down. I'm only explaining this once," Beth hates her. Just a little.

Later, when Beth is sort of upright and Alison and Donnie are staring awkwardly at each other over their respective mugs of coffee-laced whisky, Donnie says "I think there's something I should tell you. I don't know if it's important or anything, but do you remember that professor we had in second year?"

Alison sleeps at Beth's apartment that night. They take a cab into town and Beth pays the doubtlessly egregious cab fair without actually looking. Alison cries, just a little bit, in the washroom where she thinks Beth can't hear. Beth drinks four cups of instant coffee with soymilk and makes a list of people in her own life who could be monitoring her. It's a depressingly short list. Her mouth feels like cotton and her eyes burn with every blink, but she still wants to go for a run, still wants the familiar burn in her muscles that means she is still working, still earning her place in the world.

At some point Alison turns on the hockey game, and she's so enthusiastic in her reactions Beth finds herself drawn in, creeping onto the sofa like a cat pretending disinterest.

"I thought those guys were supposed to keep the puck out of their net?" she asks finally. Alison chokes off a laugh, hand coming up to cover her mouth.

"Oh, I shouldn't laugh, that's terrible. They're all just children, I'm sure they're trying their best."

Beth doesn't ask any more questions after that.

"So I think my monitor is Paul," she says at the next commercial break.

"Oh sweetie," Alison says, wrapping an arm around Beth's shoulders. Beth still isn't used to Alison's brand of physical affection. Beth comes from a world of back slaps and shoulder pats and fist bumps and what Cosima calls "bro hugs", where affection and comfort and reassurance come in the slightest shift of stance, in eye contact or silently appearing cups of hot coffee. Pressed close with the heat of Alison's body up against her side, smell of floral drier sheets and generic shampoo, she's still not sure if she likes it. Alison's arm across her shoulders makes her feel small in a way that every sneer or innuendo from fellow police officers over the past eight years has failed to, and she thinks this could make her afraid, if she let it.

"I mean," she says. "He's the only one who makes sense, when you think about it."

"What about your partner?" Alison asks.

Beth bristles. "No." She's already planning to check up on Art, but it is a guilty, private distrust born of necessity and pragmatism and it is not for anyone else to share.

Alison strokes a hand down her arm, from shoulder to forearm, from the soft cotton of her shirt to bare skin. "What will you do? Are you going to confront him?"

Beth shakes her head. "I want proof. I need to know who they're working for. Who wants us monitored. And Paul's not like Donnie. I wouldn't be surprised if he's more informed about what's going on."

"You be careful, Elizabeth."

Beth snorts. "Isn't that my line?"

Alison squeezes her a bit tighter. "It applies to all of us."

Beth falls asleep there, the first real sleep she's had in almost forty-eight hours. She has foggy memories of Alison guiding her from the sofa to the bedroom, the TV screen dark and silent. The sheets are cool against her skin and she drifts back to sleep sprawled out on her stomach. She doesn't remember her dreams.

There's coffee when she wakes up, steaming gently in a large paper cup. Alison, perched on the side of the bed beside Beth's legs under the blankets, smiles mischievously from behind her own cup.

"I popped into the Second Cup down the block," she says. "I know it's outrageous to spend five dollars on a fancy coffee latte, but I figured after yesterday we both deserve a little treat."

Beth sits up just enough to reach the cup on the bedside table. Bracing herself, she takes a sip. It's sickeningly sweet, sweet enough to make her teeth hurt and rich like a milkshake, flooding thick and hot down her throat and sitting heavy in her stomach. She smiles up at Alison.

"Thanks. This is great."

Alarmingly, by the time she's standing by the front door finishing the last dregs in the bottom of her cup she's actually started to enjoy it. "You stay the fuck away from me," she mutters warningly at the cup when she throws it out. She dry swallows a couple uppers to support the caffeine. Only two. Within the proscribed dosage, even. Yesterday had been a stupid lapse in judgement, the sort of shit she can't afford to pull if she's going to keep herself and her clones safe. She should've just kept pushing until her body passed out from exhaustion naturally instead of trying to help it along, trying to dull the way her thoughts were racing and every noise or sudden movement had her body flooding with adrenaline then left stale in her veins. It'd been stupid to go to Alison's to do it, too, but her self-recrimination quota's been lowered to make room for a mix of fear and fury all directed at Paul. Or at least at the possibility of what Paul might be doing. They've been in that weird place between broken up and trying to make things work for a few months now, but the knowledge that she might be nothing more than an assignment to him is still bitter at the back of her throat.

She runs all the way to work. Before she leaves she stands on the sidewalk in front of her building with Alison.

"You sure you don't want me to call you a cab?"

"I'm perfectly capable of calling myself a cab," she says, flicking her ponytail. "I've got some shopping to do anyway. And I'll take the bus over to Donnie's office when I'm done and he can drive me home on his lunch break. We've got a lot to talk about." She says 'take the bus' like you might say 'join a gang and have sex in a truck stop bathroom', but she's also got her brave little toaster smile in place and Beth has learned the hard way to keep any concerned forks to herself.

"Ok. Let me know when I can come pick up my car."

Alison nods. "I will." She takes a half step forward like she wants to hug Beth, and for a second Beth wishes that she would. But in the end she just reaches out to rest a hand on Beth's shoulder, squeezing a bit and Beth thinks this is better.

"You be careful," Alison reminds her, and turns briskly to stride off down the sidewalk.

*

Three weeks later, Beth tells Paul it's over. She doesn't bring up the monitoring because the deeper she looked into Paul's history the more she felt she wasn't ready to tangle with him. She does it on a Tuesday, which means she barely has time to punch the wall, swallow a few pills, and pack up a tupperware container of what she will fiercely defend are chocolate chip cookies before she has to drive over to Alison's for dinner.

Tuesday dinners were Alison's idea. That first day when she'd left the station after work, still not quite sure how she was going to retrieve her car, Alison and Donnie had been there to meet her. The drive back had been moderately surreal-- Beth tucked in the back seat between a Costco pack of paper towels and a large stuffed rabbit which appeared to be missing an ear, while Donnie and Alison stumbled their way through what was clearly some sort of prepared speech, constantly pausing to correct each other or themselves or talking over the other or getting into arguments about tangentially related topics. Beth had felt somewhere caught between an eight-year-old in the back seat trying to understand a pair of well-meaning adults, and the forced patience of interviewing confused and nervous civilians around a crime scene.

"We just think," Alison had said as they pulled into the driveway. "that now that Donnie knows, and given you're little... problem with Paul, it would be nice if we spent some more time together. More time that's not all about, you know."

"Clones," Beth had offered, just to be obnoxious. Alison had twitched gratifyingly.

Donnie had turned to look at her for the first time, and she'd been surprised at how haggard he'd looked. "Look, Beth. I don't really know you. At all. But you're pretty important to Alie, and I guess that means it'd be pretty cool to get to know you, too."

"Pretty cool?" Alison had asked. "I thought I told you to stop spending so much time with Chad."

Alison, being Alison, had insisted that this new bonding time thing happened on a schedule. Thus, Tuesday night dinners were born.

Beth shows up with dried blood crusted across her knuckles. It's Donnie who opens the door, and he notices her hand first thing. She wonders if it's an awareness you cultivate as a parent.

"Whoa, tiger," he says. "Did crime fight back?"

She rolls her eyes. "It's fine."

It's probably not actually all that fine, now that she gets a good look at it and the adrenaline has worn off, but nothing feels broken so she's going to ignore it for the time being. It's not her gun hand. She's still useful.

"Hi, Beth," Alison calls from the kitchen. "Come in here and be my taste tester, would you?"

Beth brushes past Donnie --he's wearing a new cologne, something that doesn't smell like a high school hallway-- and sidesteps into the kitchen, keeping her hand tucked in the pocket of her jeans and out of sight behind the counter. Alison's at the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

"We're having spaghetti," she says. "Come try the sauce. I think I might have gone a bit crazy with the oregano."

Hand still in pocket, Beth abandons her tupperware on the counter and comes over to join Alison in front of the stove. Alison pulls a teaspoon out of the drawer beside her, and dips it in the sauce. Beth realizes what's happening fast enough that she doesn't wind up with sauce dripped down her shirt, but she wasn't exactly expecting Alison to move the spoon right from the pot to Beth's mouth.

"It's good," she says, by which she means it is better than the no name brand jars she buys and lets sit in the back of her cupboard for years before dumping them over soggy macaroni.

Donnie comes in, setting a tube of anti-bacterial cream and some gauze on the counter.

"Here's some stuff for your hand, Beth."

Alison's attention snaps, laser focused, to Beth. "You're hurt?"

Beth sighs impatiently. "It's nothing."

Alison reaches over and pulls Beth's hand out of her pocket like it's perfectly normal, like it's her right to fucking invade Beth's personal space whenever she feels like it.

"Oh cripes, this looks like it hurts. Why didn't you wash this up before you came?"

Beth doesn't say anything because she doesn't have a good answer, is conscious enough of her own quirks that she doesn't say 'I didn't want to be late'. Alison pulls Beth over to the sink to run her hand under water. It stings like a bitch, but Beth's feeling a little bit floaty so she can kind of ignore the fresh kind of pain. Donnie grabs a beer from the fridge.

"Hey, could you pass me one of those?" Beth asks. Donnie hesitates.

"That depends," Alison says, skirting the edges of gentle and stern but managing not to truly hit either. "Have you had anything else in the last few hours?"

Beth tenses, but Alison's grip on her wrist is firm.

"I think my personal medical information is my own business," Beth says.

"We all know that's not just medicine you're taking," Alison says. 

Beth glares. "Oh," she says coolly. "We all know, do we?"

Donnie holds up his hands, meets her gaze. "You weren't doing so good that first day we met," he says. "It's not hard to figure out."

Allison turns off the tap. "You don't have to hide it with us. But I'm not going to actively help you harm yourself, and I'm definitely not letting you mess with your mental state around my children."

Beth skips right over icy rage at Alison's presumption to confused panic. "I thought they were with your mom?"

Alison shakes her head. "She had to cancel, someone broke in at the office and she needed to be there to meet the security company. I sent you a text."

Beth's pretty sure her phone is somewhere on the floor of her apartment. "Oh. I-- I can leave? I mean, I probably shouldn't be here when the kids are here."

"Don't be silly," Alison says. "We talked about it, and it's ridiculous to keep up trying to hide it from them. You're family."

Beth doesn't make a single comment about Alison's obsessive need for secrecy as recent as three weeks ago. "I'm not," she says instead. "We're not family. I don't have family. I know this clone stuff is... I know we're all stuck in it together. But I'm an only child. I'm not--"

Alison starts smoothing the anti-bacterial cream over Beth's knuckles. "I didn't really mean because of the, you know. Don't get me wrong, I would have loved to have sisters growing up, but at this point I don't think that really applies. I just meant you're welcome in this house, Beth, and we may not be sisters but I do think that now we've found each other it's important to hold on to that."

The closest Beth's come to family is the one bedroom apartment she'd shared with Art, three cats, and eight tomato plants, the first year they were out of police training. They'd taken turns sleeping on the bed when they did sleep, most of their days taken up working sixteen hours just to keep their heads above water, days off spent in rigorous physical exercise and staying up too late to drink too much. It'd been a year almost fictional in its impracticality and ultimately unsustainable both physically and mentally, as are all last frantic glimpses through the window before adulthood closes the curtains. She looks at Alison, looks at Donnie, looks at the kids' artwork taped on the fridge and the pink flowered dish cloths, and then she runs away to have a very quiet panic attack in her car. Her hands and face are numb. There's an empty pack of spearmint gum in the cupholder because Paul never remembers to throw away the packages. Beth rests her forehead against the steering wheel and tries to take deep breaths.

Oscar and Gemma are sitting at the kitchen table when she goes back in.

"Hi, Auntie Beth," says Gemma.

"Jesus Christ," says Beth, then slaps a hand over her mouth and thinks 'Fuck' very loudly. Oscar is holding his colouring book up so it hides his face. Beth is kind of jealous.

"Mommy says you're a police woman," Gemma continues, apparently unaware that she's the only one in the room not freaking out. "Do you have a gun?"

Beth exhales. "It's nice to meet you," she says. "And yes I have a gun, but I only carry it when I'm at work. Guns are very dangerous, so you've got to be very careful all the time."

"Have you ever shot a bad guy?"

"No," Beth says.

The next day she kills Maggie Chen. She will do anything to protect her people. She tells Art it was an accident, is shaking and freaking the fuck out enough that he doesn't even question it. She has never killed anyone before.

When it's all over, when she's sitting in her car minus badge and gun, plus a massive debt to her partner, she realizes that she doesn't want to go home. Paul still hasn't collected all his things, and she's still not sure if he's connected with Maggie Chen''s people. Doesn't really want to risk an emotional conflict if he isn't or a physical one if he is. She sits in the parking lot watching the rain streak the windshield for over an hour. Her throat is raw from repeating her report of the events before and after the shooting, and she isn't sure if the dull detachment she's feeling is a result of shock or of the fact that she's entirely unmedicated for the first time in weeks. Eventually she starts driving, and it's not as surprising as she'd like when she heads toward Alison's house. She parks across the street and sits in her car like a fucking creep. Neighbourhood Watch is probably going to come knocking on her window any minute, but she can't muster the energy to actually cross the street and go inside. Doesn't really think it'd be an appropriate choice, anyway-- she has no business smearing the violence of her job over the freshly laundered innocence of suburbia.

It's not Neighbourhood Watch who knocks on her window. Donnie's wearing old sweat pants and a bright yellow rain jacket. "Uh, hey, Alison's not home right now."

She nods automatically. "It's fine. I don't need to talk to her."

Donnie rocks back on his heels awkwardly. "Well, um. Ok. Are you waiting for someone?"

"No."

"So you're just... Hanging out in your car outside of our house... for the fun of it?"

She rubs her eyes. "Don't worry about it. I'm leaving."

He frowns a bit. "Alison will probably be home in an hour or two, if you want to come in and wait. They usually go for coffee after theatre rehearsal, but the Starbucks closes at nine-thirty."

"It's fine. I'm fine. I don't-- I don't know why I fucking came here, I'm sorry."

"Rough day at work?" he asks, and he's mostly joking, but when Beth starts laughing she can't stop and there's something clawing it's way up through her throat and seeping across her skin, a stain that says 'I pointed a gun at someone and then I killed them and I meant to do it and I would do it again'. She imagines a giant magnet sucking up all the bad out of Alison and forming into Beth, an identical to do the dirty work, a tool for those tasks which are both necessary and distasteful. She presses her hands over her face and when she breathes in she smells gun powder.

"Oooookay," Donnie says. "So I think you should come inside now."

He opens her door for her and she goes because it requires less effort than driving away and having to pick another destination. She sits on the sofa in the living room. There's hockey on the TV and building blocks on the floor. Gemma sits beside her and offers her a box of crayons. Beth draws a stick figure, and then another, identical, and another and another, and then she crumples the page before Gemma can see.

"I think you're gonna have to draw the pictures for both of us," she tells Gemma. "I didn't get any of the artistic talent."

Donnie makes her a mug of tea. He heats the water in the microwave and leaves the bag in too long just like she does, which is weirdly comforting.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asks.

"Nope."

"Cool."

They sit in silence punctuated by the blare of the goal horn from the TV or one of the kids asking something. Beth drinks her shitty tea mechanically and wishes it was something stronger. Alison gets home at nine-thirty-seven. Beth's been staring at the clock on the wall across from her for the past twenty-three minutes.

"You would not believe what Aynsley said to me tonight," she says before she's even entered the room. And then, "Oh, Beth. Hello. Donnie, it's nine-thirty, have you even gotten the kids into the bath yet? I don't know how many times I tell you, it's one night a week, I'm not asking that much."

"Sorry," he says absently.

Beth places her mug down on the table. "Have you guys tried marriage counselling?"

Alison spins on her. "We do not need-- Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you look terrible. Kids, put away your toys, your father will start running the tub. Beth, do you need any sort of medical attention? Don't lie."

"No."

"Ok, good. I'm going to toss a load of laundry in and then I'll pour us a drink and you can tell me what's going on."

"It's fine," Beth says. "I shouldn't--"

"I think she was a little bit hysterical earlier," Donnie says, traitorously. Alison glares at them both in turn.

"You think I'm hysterical when I tell you to pick up your socks off the bathroom floor. And you," pointing to Beth, "are obviously not OK and I'm not letting you leave until I at least know you're safe to drive."

Beth swallows down the resentment, and doesn't point out that getting her in a fit state to drive should not involve pouring a drink. Once Donnie and the kids have left the room, Alison returns with two glasses of orange juice liberally spiked with vodka. She holds it away from Beth before she sits down, eyebrows raised. Beth thinks probably if she were capable of feeling anything she'd feel the intense urge to punch Alison in the face.

"I haven't had anything," she says, and hates how her voice comes out like a petulant teenager. Alison hands over the glass and settles down beside Beth on the sofa.

"So, spill."

"It's nothing you have to worry about," Beth says. "Just had a bad day."

"Anything that makes you look like this is something I'm worried about," Alison says.

Beth takes a large gulp of her drink. "I shot someone," she tells the carpet. "She's dead now."

"Oh, oh dear," Alison murmurs, and finishes her drink in a few long swallows so she can set the glass down and reach over to hug Beth. Beth remains still in the embrace, arms pressed awkwardly between them. "You're so brave, you know. You're out there every day protecting the rest of us from criminals, and sometimes that means taking extreme measures."

It'd be easy to let Alison go on assuming it was a criminal. She wouldn't be wrong, but Beth's got to keep her cover story solid, even now. "She was a civilian," she says. "I thought she was going for a gun but it turned out to be her cell phone. But I shot her."

Alison pulls back. She's quiet for a long few minutes, and Beth thinks calmly that this is the last time she will be welcome in this house. Finally, Alison reaches out a hand to cup Beth's jaw. "You know, Elizabeth, I can't figure out why you're lying to me, or exactly which part of that was a fib, but I trust that you have your reasons. And I hope that they're good reasons."

Beth blinks a few times. Alison's hands are cool against her skin and it's only now that she registers the dull throbbing in her temples and the way her teeth are chattering just a little bit.

"I broke up with Paul yesterday," she says. "He was my monitor. Also, I'm suspended. And my lease is up at the end of the month and this time last year Paul and I were talking about buying a place together. I haven't run a race in six months. What the fuck am I doing, Alison? And why don't I care about any of this?"

Alison slides her hand down from Beth's jaw to rest at the vulnerable curve between shoulder and neck. "Oh sweetheart. I promise everything will look better in the morning. And I'll help you make a list."

"A list?"

Alison nods briskly. "A to do list. You've got a lot on your plate, so it's nice to have a handy list of exactly what you need to do to deal with it."

Beth snorts. "This isn't exactly the same as taking the kids to soccer practice and doing the grocery shopping."

"Same principles apply," she says. "Come on, you can sleep on the sofa in the basement so the kids don't' wake you up in the morning."

"No, Alison, I'm not going to--"

"Yes, you are. I have a spare toothbrush, and, well, I guess my pyjamas will fit you, won't they?"

Beth shakes her head mutely, but Alison's already up and tugging Beth up after her. "Come on, chop chop, you look exhausted." Beth goes.

*

"That's not exactly a great neighbourhood, I don't know if you'd want to live there," Alison says that Saturday, leaning over Beth where she's hunched at the kitchen table with her laptop scrolling through what feels like endless MLS listings.

Beth snorts. "It's not a "bad neighbourhood". And the price is reasonable."

"Isn't there a homeless shelter a few streets over?"

Beth actually rolls her eyes. "Just stop talking, you're only digging yourself deeper."

Alison goes back to mixing batter for banana bread. "I'm just saying. Safety is important."

Donnie comes into the kitchen smelling of dead leaves. "Honey, we're going to need to buy more orange garbage bags. I filled the last of ours with leaves, but if you want enough for the whole team to decorate at Halloween you'll need to get another box. Morning, Beth."

She glances at the clock on her computer screen. "Afternoon, now."

"Find somewhere to live yet?"

"Not yet. Who the hell said the economy was allowed to fluctuate? Also, your wife keeps "axing my choices."

"Because your choices are all in terrible parts of town. Excuse me for not wanting you to get murdered on your morning run. I thought you were going to work on the fence this afternoon, Donnie?"

"I was, but I need to move some of that junk out of the back corner, and it's too heavy to do on my own. I thought I'd wait for Chad to get back from the driving range and get him to help me."

Alison taps her spoon on the side of the bowl. "Beth can help you."

Beth looks up. "Can she?"

Alison waves the spoon threateningly in her direction. "She certainly can. You've been staring at that computer screen for almost an hour and a half. You know that's bad for your eyes."

Beth closes out of the Internet browser. She glances at her email from the corner of her eye so she can pretend not to see anything she doesn't want to deal with. There's a message from Kat, but she'd call if it was anything urgent. She's already warned Katja and Cosima about the possibility of monitors, and until Kat finishes hunting down blood samples or something new comes up on Maggie Chen's people there isn't much anybody in Clone Club can do.

"Ok," she says, glad she chose jeans and a tank top. "Take me to the heavy lifting." The mundanity is soothing, not poking and prodding to demand an emotion, a simple task with a clear cut and achievable purpose. It is good to feel the muscles under her skin work, to remind herself that her body is still strong, that she can still serve a purpose. Donnie doesn't try to make conversation, but when they're done they sit out on the deck together and trade stories about the stupid shit they pulled as kids. Admittedly, his stories run more along the lines of pallet wrapping a teacher's car or smoking pot behind the church, and hers lean more towards shoplifting and hitchhiking from Regina to Quebec City when she was thirteen, but she still finds herself chuckling at some of his anecdotes.

It isn't until much later that Beth makes the connection between Alison telling, instead of asking her to help Donnie, and her resulting sense of peace and satisfaction. By then, she's moved in with them, and it's way too fucking late to have a crisis. Not that this stops her.  
She finds an apartment to rent, but it isn't available until three months after her current lease is up.

"You'll stay here, of course," Alison says, and Beth's had another shitty day and has taken a few downers so she doesn't even argue. There's an official date for her hearing, which is at least one step closer to getting back to work. Kat's booked a plane ticket, and Cosima's talking about coming up.

"We'll have to be careful," Beth says. "One surprise twin sister your neighbours are willing to believe. I don't think they'd buy quadruplets."

"You'll still have your apartment," Alison says. Beth snorts.

"Assuming Paul hasn't bugged it."

"We'll think of something. A hotel room, maybe. Come help me with these cupcakes, I've got to ice a hundred of them by seven o'clock."

Back when they were first getting to know each other and coming to terms with the clone issue, Beth had taken Alison out into the middle of nowhere and taught her how to shoot a gun. Beth thinks this is probably when she knew quite definitively that she could not see Alison as a sister, but that's a little too cliche to admit. Ever. Beth starts teaching her some basic self-defence out in the back yard before the kids get home from school. Alison takes to it with enthusiasm. It's the first time Alison manages to pin her to the ground, dead grass crackling under her back, watery afternoon sunlight overhead, and Alison's body warm atop her, pressing her down so she's caught between the unyielding earth and the pressure of Alison's arms and knees and torso that Beth's magical fucking epiphany smacks her over the head. She can get out from Alison's hold with very little effort-- clones they may be, but Beth's spent years developing her muscle tone and fighting skills. The problem is that Beth doesn't particularly want to get away. The goddamn problem is that Beth feels settled and safe and secure like a switch has been thrown in her brain and she is absolutely not prepared to deal with what that could mean.

Naturally, this means she spends the next three nights staring sleeplessly up at the basement ceiling running through every possible way this new revelation could fuck up her entire life even more than it already is. Those three days are pretty bad, and she spends as much time away from the house as possible, retreats to her now-empty apartment, runs and runs until her legs are numb and she's pretty sure she's managed to break every rule of healthy running she's drilled into herself over the years. She practices for the hearing.

"That sounds pretty good," Donnie says when he walks in on her rehearsing her speech to the empty craft room. "But maybe try to sound less like you're about to start bouncing off the walls."

It is possible Beth has been less than precise in counting the time between her medication. ...also the dosage. It's fine. She repeats this to Donnie a couple times, just to reassure him. It is very important everyone know just how fine this is all going to be. He looks less than convinced.

By the end of the third day after the incident in the backyard Beth has mostly talked herself around to being reasonably calm about the whole thing. The only way anything will change is if she lets something slip, and she's entirely capable of keeping her mouth shut.

Two days before Kat's flight arrives Alison and Beth are pulling into the driveway of the house, coming back from an adventure spawned by Alison's sudden and determined craving for frozen yogurt. A woman Beth doesn't recognize is standing on the porch. She tenses immediately, but Alison just groans.

"Oh, great. Kim's already gotten the email, I see."

Beth waits in the car, gnawing absently on her plastic spoon. The windows are down, so she can hear the conversation.

"Alison," Kim says. "Hi! Hi, I'm so glad I caught you! I just wanted to have a little chat about the changes to the silent auction. Did you get Jenn's email?"

"I did see the email. I think the new venue will be really lovely, all those windows will really give it a nice open feeling. Good if we get as many attendees as Jenn seems to think we'll be getting."

"Hmm, do you think so? It's just, I was looking at the cost increase, and we'll have to sell at least sixty more tickets to make up for it. It'd be lovely if we could use this new venue, of course, but I'm just not sure changing it this close to the date is a good plan."

Alison smiles. "Oh, I'm sure we'll be fine. After all, Jenn said she's sent out invitations to all the county councillors and trustees."

"You know," Kim says, lowering her voice like she's telling a secret. "She hasn't' got the ad into the paper yet? And I haven't seen a single announcement in the school news letters."

Alison shakes her head. "Oh, I'm sure she's just busy. She's got a lot on her plate, you know? I wouldn't worry. Incidentally, could you forward me the donation request letter? Jenn said she'd send them out a couple weeks ago but I must have lost the email."

Kim frowns. "She hasn't done that, either. We've only got a month."

"Hmm," Alison says lightly. "Well, I'm sure she's working her hardest."

Kim shakes her head. "It's irresponsible. I think I'm going to get Ryan to ask at the next PTA meeting if they've even heard about the auction."

"Oh," Alison holds up a hand. "You might want to give it a couple days. I remember he worked really hard to get us the original venue, I think he might be a little hurt that Jenn's changed it on us."

Kim frowns darkly. "Well, I'm certainly going to be making some calls. Listen, I'm sorry I don't have time to chat, but I've got to get Carter to his piano lesson. But thanks for checking in about this, hon."

Alison smiles big. "Of course! I just want this event to go off as smoothly as possible, and I'm glad to see you're working hard to make that happen."

When Beth gets out of the car, she's slow clapping. "Mrs.. Hendrix. Did you just start a coup?"

Alison flips her ponytail over her shoulder. "Just a little one."

"Why not just go tell this Jenn woman you think she's doing a shitty job?"

Alison unlocks the door and holds it open for Beth. "Jenn is on the committee that decides if the community theatre gets funding. I need her to like me, at least until February 15'th."

Beth ducks under her arm and into the house and thinks maybe she is not the only one teaching self-defence.

The morning before Kat's plane lands, which is, as much as Beth has been pretending it isn't, also the morning before her hearing, she wakes up and thinks, very calmly, 'there is a very easy way out of this'. As if summoned by fate, her cell phone rings.

"So the word is you're gonna get cleared," Art says without preamble. "But there's probably gonna be some mandatory counselling sessions. I'm giving you forewarning so you can try and find somebody other than the department shrink. I know you two don't exactly get along."

"Ok," she says. "Thanks."

"Hey, you OK?"

"Yeah, Art." She lets the phone rest against her cheek and clasps her hands together over her rib cage. When she breathes in, she thinks she feels a crackle.

"I'm here if you ever wanna talk, you know that. I'm not gonna be your therapist, but I'm still your partner."

She breathes in again. "I know. I know, Art. I really appreciate everything you've done for me." She hears footsteps pounding on the stairs. "I've gotta go, Art."

"I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Yeah," she says, and hangs up just in time to catch Oscar when he leaps on top of her. "Auntie, auntie, come on. Daddy's making pancakes."

She grins up at him. "Hmm. Are daddy's pancakes worth getting up for? I'm pretty cosy."

Oscar frowns. "We don't' eat daddy's pancakes," he says like she's stupid. "But the fire is really neat!"

Beth gets up.

In the kitchen, Beth leans against the counter and stares intently at the coffeemaker. She's exhausted, even after ten hours of sleep, and she's hoping the caffeine will do enough that she can limit how much medication she needs. She wants to look stable at tomorrow's hearing.

"You know, a watched pot never boils," Alison chirps, leaning past Beth to grab a glass from the cupboard above her head. She rests a hand against Beth's hip as she reaches, arms bracketing Beth's body briefly, her chest pressed up against Beth's back. Beth feels herself drifting even closer to sleep, her chin dropping towards her chest before she jerks it back up. She sees Donnie and Alison exchange a glance in the reflection of the window.

"The kids are going to the water park after breakfast," Alison says. "Will you be around? I thought we could get things all ready for our friends when they arrive tomorrow."

Beth shrugs. "I didn't have plans." she's not quite sure what needs getting ready-- Cosima's bus gets in ridiculously early, and she's pretty sure she's planning on taking a cab straight to her hotel. Kat's flight comes in while Beth's meant to be at her hearing, and similarly she's heading for a hotel.

"Great," Alison says briskly. "Is there anything you need to do to get ready for the hearing tomorrow?"

Beth shakes her head. "No. Art says I should try to set up an appointment with a counsellor so the department doesn't do it for me, but..."

Alison cocks her head. "But what? I think that sounds like an excellent plan. Why don't you get that out of the way while Donnie drops the kids off."

Beth blinks. "I doubt they'll be open on Sunday."

Alison shrugs. "You can still leave a message. That way you can give the department a name so they know you're actually planning to go."

"Jesus, Alison, OK," Beth says. The coffeemaker clicks off and Beth lunges for it.

After their breakfast of slightly burnt pancakes, Donnie and the kids troop out to the car and Alison settles in to load the dishwasher. When Beth moves to help she shakes her head. "Shoo, I've got this. I swear, it's like you and Donnie have never loaded a dishwasher in your lives. There's an art to fitting everything in. Go make your phone calls."

Beth sits in the living room and looks up counsellors on her phone. There are a surprisingly limited number, but she leaves messages with the two most reputable looking ones, figuring at least one must be accepting clients.

Alison and Donnie have a hushed conversation in the kitchen as soon as he gets back, and Beth is just about to head out for a run when they waylay her in the hall.

"Beth," Alison says. "Donnie and I want to have a talk with you."

Beth holds up her hands. "I called the fucking counsellors, Alison, Jesus."

Alison smiles. "I'm glad. But that's not what this is about."

"You're making it sound really intimidating, honey," Donnie says. "It's nothing bad, Beth. Promise."

They convene in the living room. Beth sits in the armchair across from Donnie and Alison on the sofa and feels exactly like she's been called to the principal's office. Alison's holding a stack of paper, which she taps nervously against her leg. Beth can smell the Baileys in her coffee from five feet away.

"So, Beth," Alison says. "It's been really, really great having you here. Having you as... part of the family. But I've been noticing some things. And, well, I did some googling and talked to a couple friends from college, and I'm just wondering if, well, if you're getting everything you need out of this arrangement."

Beth stares. "I have no fuckfing idea what you're talking about," she says.

Alison shifts a bit, then drops the stack of papers on the coffee table facing Beth. The top page is the beginning of the wikipedia entry for BDSM.

"I'm going to go jump out the window," Beth says calmly.

Alison waves her off, but there's a blush sneaking it's way up her neck and across her cheeks. "I wanted to be well-informed. There are more credible sources printed out there, too, I'm not just relying on wikipedia."

Sometimes Beth forgets that, unlike herself, Donnie and Alison both went to university. "Oh good," she says weakly. "Wouldn't want to put all our faith in wikipedia."

"I've noticed how you react to me sometimes," Alison says. "And I wouldn't have thought much of it except, well, it was really nice. I liked it."

"So you googled," says Beth.

"And talked to a couple of my friends from university," Alison says cheerfully. "They used to be into all sorts of things, corsets and fishnets and going to Pride parades."

"Scandalous," Beth says, deadpan.

"Oh hush," Alison says. "We aren't all worldly city slickers. Anyway, I wanted to say, if you wanted to, you know, do some things. Or actually talk about what is good for you and for me, I think that would be really productive."

"You've been pretty quiet," Beth says, looking at Donnie. "What do you think of all this?"

He shrugs. He's blushing, too. "I don't mind. Alie and I talked about this a lot, and I'm really OK with you two, doing stuff. Heck, reading this stuff gave us a couple ideas, too."

Alison's smirk is downright predatory. "It certainly did."

"So you'd be into sex stuff?" Beth asks Alison.

Alison shrugs a bit. "Sometimes. Probably, I'm not really sure. I mean, sex can be nice sometimes, but eighty-percent of the time I'd really rather not. But I figure we can experiment."

"Yeah," Beth says. "I-- yeah. Ok, that sounds good. Jesus, you can't just spring this on someone, I need time to process."

Alison nods furiously. "Of course, of course. And... well, if you want to see how things go with the counsellor before we do anything-- it's your business, obviously, but I want this to be safe."

Beth holds up a hand. "I'll let you know," she says. "That'll be part of the processing."

"Ok," says Alison. "Ok, wow. That went really well. And now since I know neither of you have anything to do for the next few hours, I'm recruiting you to help me start cooking for Cosima and Katja's arrival. I bet neither of those girls have had a decent home cooked meal in forever."

"Oh, good," Beth says wryly. "Exactly what I wanted to do with my Sunday."

Alison arches an eyebrow. "Did you have better plans?"

Beth exhales, presses her hands down against the sofa. " No," she says. "I didn't."


End file.
